Nothing's Gone Forever
by ChibiDawn23
Summary: MARY POPPINS RETURNS. Andy glanced at Michael, got a nod, and explained, "At the soup kitchen the other day…I spoke with a gentleman. He told me…said he got into a fight with Jack awhile back and Jack crippled him. Stole from him and rode off." Jane's eyes went wide. "Y-you're joking. Jack? *My* Jack?" Jack/Jane. Part 8 of my Chimpanzooniverse; follows "A Bit of Rain."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; they belong to PL Travers, Rob Marshall, and Disney.**

**Author's**** Note**: While it probably isn't 100% necessary to do so, a lot of things in the backstory and references can be cleared up by "The Chimpanzoo" and "A Bit of Rain" found on my profile. The events in this chapter were inspired by Luraia's "For Richer, For Poorer" which I highly recommend you read, along with her other works!

* * *

**Chapter 1: **

"Michael's going to kill me."

Jane Banks held on to the handlebars of Jack's bicycle with a deathgrip as the two of them sailed over the cobblestones, rattling and bumping along. Her teeth chattered, but it wasn't because of the chilly fall weather.

Jack grit his teeth as he fought to keep the bike steady and his passenger from falling off as they rode down the streets of London. The wooden wheels of his bike clunked and clattered. His right hand burned from doing most of the work to keep the bike facing forward as they rode with breakneck speed toward Cherry Tree Lane.

"'M so sorry, Jane," he apologized for what seemed like the fiftieth time, as they took a corner, Jane helping him steer the bike round the bend in the street.

"For the l-last time," Jane said, "this is all m-my f-fault. I can-n-not believe that I f-forgot I promised my b-brother I would watch the ch-hildren tonight!" She wanted to look back at him so Jack understood she was serious, but the movement would throw them off balance at the speed they were going.

"Not exactly the w-way we intended this n-night to end, eh?" Jack couldn't resist as they thundered down the road.

Jane coughed out a laugh. "Definitely not!" she agreed. Then, her eyes widened. "Jack! Look-"

She grabbed the handlebars and Jack swerved to maneuver around a man who had stumbled out of a pub ahead of them and into the street. At the sound of Jane's voice, he'd looked up and managed to back out of the way just in time as the two of them sailed past, narrowly missing getting clipped by Jack's ladder, which stuck out horizontal from the back of his bike.

"Sorry!" Jack called, chancing a glance backwards to make sure they hadn't, in fact, hit him and that he was all right. Then, they were blocks away, sailing past Thomas on a ladder as he lit the evening lamps, who yelled, "Hi, Jack!" to his friend's disappearing figure.

* * *

They hadn't hit him. It had been close. Edward Underhill found himself on his hands and knees, half in the street and half on the sidewalk, breathing heavily. He wasn't sure if it was from the adrenaline rush and the shock, or the tough landing and the feeling he was going to be sick.

Copious alcohol consumption will do that to a man.

But he also felt sick for another reason. The man on the bike, a shadow from his past.

A night, thirty years ago. A fight, and money wagered. A loss, and a fight in an alley. A knife…and a little boy.

A little boy who, he was almost positive, had just blown by him on a bicycle.

* * *

Jane hopped off the bike and was halfway up the stairs as Michael came bursting from the house, fumbling with his tie. "Goodness sake's, Jane!" Michael Banks complained as they met on the stairs. "You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago!"

"I know! We're sorry, we-" she glanced down at Jack, who was leaning his bicycle up against the shrubs by the house. "We lost track of time."

Michael threw his hands up in the air. "I don't even want to know. Please make sure Georgie has a bath and John and Annabel finish their schoolwork. Bedtime-"

"Eight. Don't worry, brother of mine," Jane said, gently pushing him toward the black towncar at the street. "They're in good hands."

Jack tipped his hat at Michael as his girlfriend's brother brushed past him. "'Ave a good night, then," he called after him. Michael turned, opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head as he climbed into the car. Jack sighed. "All right, then," he said, following Jane into the house.

They were met with a very somber sight. Annabel and John, Michael's two oldest, were sitting silently on the sofa, arms crossed and stormy faces. "What's this about?" Jane asked, hanging up her jacket.

"Why the long faces?" Jack slipped out of his shoes and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the children.

"Father is going to a party at the bank," Annabel said. The oldest of the two sat stonily in her green jumper and brown trousers, nearly buried in the throw pillows.

"And we can't go," John added.

Jane smiled sympathetically. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to be at that party anyway," their aunt said. "Grown up parties aren't _that_ much fun, anyway."

"Maybe not," John agreed.

"But we still want to go," Annabel finished.

"Oh, I'm sure we can have plenty of fun tonight on our own," Jack told them. "Where's Georgie?"

John pointed up the stairs. "In our room. Father wanted him to get ready for his bath."

Jane clapped her hands together. "Jack, what if I go help Georgie upstairs, and you do something about the funk that these two are in?"

Jack smiled. "Might just have a remedy for that," he said, giving her a wink that neither of the older children missed. Jane headed upstairs. The second her feet vanished out of view, Annabel and John joined Jack on the floor, John parked himself in the leerie's lap and Anabel grabbed his arm.

"When are you going to ask Aunt Jane to marry you, Jack?" Anabel asked him, tugging on his arm.

"We're fine with it and so is Father," John put in.

Jack turned as bright red as his waistcoat. "T-that a fact?" he stammered. The thought that Michael Banks had discussed this, even within earshot of his children, let alone approved of it, was mind-boggling.

John shifted so that he could see both Jack and his sister. "We heard him tell Ellen one night," John informed him. "He said, 'That man's a good one,'" the boy added, the impression of Michael Banks nearly spot on.

"And you're with her _all_ the time, even after your turn the lights on at night," Annabel jumped in. "She's missed family supper night a few times. Father says we're not allowed to ask her questions, but he _didn't_ say we couldn't ask _you_."

_Awfully specific_. Jack swallowed. "Well, you two," he started, "'s a lot of things to think about with all that. Sad to say it's not a fairy tale, or a jaunt with Mary Poppins that comes all right in the end." He ruffled John's hair; the boy looked considerably less happy than he had been. "I don't mean to make you sad," he told the two children. "I would marry your aunt in a heartbeat."

It felt weird to say it out loud, and he had to pause. Did he mean it? _Yeah_, he decided, _I believe I do_. The children had brightened considerably, and he smiled at them reassuringly. "I would," he repeated. "But there's things to consider. You two are smart. You know I'm not a banker like your father. I light the lamps on a bicycle. I share a flat with three fellas."

It was Annabel who understood. "Money," she said quietly. "Oh, but Jack, Aunt Jane wouldn't care about that!"

Jack squeezed her hand. "She wouldn't," he agreed. "But unfortunately, it's always somethin' to keep in the back of all this." He mentally berated himself at the crestfallen looks on the children's faces-this was _not_ pulling them out of their funk by any means. "I won' say it'll never happen," he finally said. "Jus' that it could be awhile." He poked Annabel in the nose, prodded John with his forehead. "Now, enough of this. We need somethin' to brighten us up a bit. How 'bout I tell you about my very first adventure with Mary Poppins?" He shifted under John so John moved to the floor, and he took the boy's hand. Annabel grasped her brother's hand. As Jack began to launch into the story, footsteps came pounding down the stairs. His exasperated aunt trailing him down, Georgie Banks, the youngest child, practically leapt into Jack's arms and threw his arms around him, his hair still dripping, pajamas half-buttoned.

"Hello Jack!" he announced, and that made everyone break into a grin. Georgie was infectious.

* * *

"I should go," Jack murmured into Jane's hair. "Your brother'll be home soon." The two of them were cuddled together on the sofa, the fire crackling behind them. The children were long in bed. Jack's tale of dancing and playing in pinpricks of light had lulled them into a happy, imagination-fueled sleep, enough so that it had been difficult to wake John and Annabel enough to get them to walk up the stairs.

"He's not my father," Jane responded sleepily, tilting her head up to look at him.

"And thank goodness for that," Jack chuckled softly. "At any rate, I should get back. It's gettin' late, and a bit chilly for a ride on my bike."

Jane sighed. "I suppose you're right, of course," she said. She hesitated. "Jack, Annabel told me something when I was putting them to bed…"

Jack froze. "Oh?" He pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing a bit as Jane's weight shifted to his left arm. As if sensing his discomfort, Jane moved with him, sliding over more toward the middle of the sofa. Jack's left arm had been injured months ago, but with the weather turning chilly as winter approached, the joints and muscles were becoming stiffer. "So what did she tell you, then?"

Jane pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. Her big brown eyes met his. "She told me she wishes you were part of the family."

The room started to get warm, and it wasn't because of the fire. Jack ran a hand through his hair under his cap. _And now what do I say_? "She ah….that is, John and her…they may have mentioned somethin' to that effect while you were upstairs with Georgie," he ventured.

Jane's gaze never left his. "What do you think about that?" she questioned him.

"Ah…" He should have known this conversation was coming sooner rather than later. "I…" He sighed and took Jane's hand. "I think I love you, Jane Banks. I think I 'ave for awhile now," he confessed. "Ever since I saw you in the window when I was a boy."

The confession made Jane turn a lovely shade of pink. "But," Jack continued, "my life…'s complicated. The children think it's about money, but it's more'n that."

Jane opened her mouth to interrupt, but Jack held up a hand. "I make jus' enough to get by and pay my share of the rent. I work odd hours. I share a flat with two lads, one of whom is half my age. I've got a lousy arm and a rickety bicycle, and I wear the same jacket and trousers every other day. I want to give you _everything_, Jane, even if you deserve more'n that," Jack told her honestly, "but I've got nothin' to give you. I don' even know my own last name." He didn't realize that he'd stood and was pacing the floor, but he paused, looking down at Jane on the sofa.

"I love your family. Georgie's smile. How Annabel is smart as a whip. That grin John gets, like he's got a secret he wants you to guess. Your brother's one of the strongest men I know, the way he takes care of the children and works his job. And _you_…." Jack realized his voice was rising, and he lowered it, not wanting to wake the children.

"You, Jane Banks, are a beautiful, bright light." Jack lifted his hands as if grasping for the right words. Finally, he let them drop to his sides. "And I'd be afraid that if you married me, there wouldn't be anythin' to keep that light shining."

The clock chimed then, announcing it was nearly nine o'clock. "I really ought to be going," Jack finished. "Good night, Jane." With that, he nodded to her, walked backwards to the entryway, and let himself out.

* * *

Michael Banks returned home around ten o'clock to find his sister curled up in the armchair, staring into the fire. "Jane?" He hung his coat on the hook and walked over to her. "Jane. Is everything all right?" His heart pounded. "Is it the children?"

His sister merely shook her head and burst into tears. Michael, unsure of what else to do, perched on the arm of the chair and held her in his arms, wondering what-or who-on earth had made his sister cry.

* * *

**Author's Note II: 100% this is a prime example of the characters taking over. I had zero plans of Jack's insecurities coming out to interfere with this budding romance, but Jack just sort of took over and had to get it all out. **


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

He couldn't sleep that night. Edward Underhill tossed and turned in his bed as memories flashed through his mind.

_He and Amos followed the boxer through the streets, wobbling a little from the drink and the anger at their lost wagers. _

_The boxer's boy was counting, and Amos was the first to speak. "'Two's where you should have stopped tonight, _El Toro_," he slurred, the fighter's nickname in the ring spat out._

_The Spanish man pulled his son behind him and turned to face Amos and Edward. _

"_Yeah," Edward said boldly, alcohol and adrenaline spurring him on. "We had money on you beatin' Gladstone in two." He remembered the fight, the realization that it was going to go another round, that they'd just lost almost a month of wages on what they'd been so sure was a sure thing._

_He remembered throwing the first punch, getting blocked by the fighter. The pain as a fist landed in his stomach, making him keel over, and the elbow that drove into his neck, dropping him to the ground, pain radiating through his head and neck, one of the nerves in his upper back on fire._

_Amos blew past him, running toward El Toro as Edward struggled to his feet. Edward tried to raise himself to a standing position as Amos fought the boxer. There was a yelp of pain, and feet ran past Edward again, this time coming from the other direction, the smell of something coppery filling his nose as Amos scattered from the alley. Amos tripped over him on the way out, his knee crashing into the back of Edward's knee, making his vision explode in stars. He could hear Amos swearing all the way._

_Edward pulled himself up, feeling for the pocketknife in his trousers pocket. He wavered on his feet, the boxer ahead of him. He shook his head to clear his vision. The boxer was brushing the alley filth off his son. Edward drove the knife into the boxer's back._

_The boxer gasped. He dropped to his knees. His boy screamed. "Papi!" The boy came at Edward, screaming incoherently in garbled Spanish. Edward panicked. He hit the boy, sending him sprawling._

_He retrieved his knife and then, he was running, his leg exploding in fire every time it hit the ground._

_The dream changed. He was running down the street, but this time, something hit him from behind. Edward went flying forward, landing on the street, as a man on a bicycle sped away._

Edward woke with a gasp, sweat dotting his forehead. The man on the bicycle. The boy in the alley.

He was the boxer's son.

Edward knew the boxer had died, but nobody had ever mentioned anything about the boy. Did he remember that night? He'd been young. Did he know it was Edward who had murdered his father?

His hands started to shake. It had been so long ago. Amos had died years ago. Not that it mattered. Edward had been the one to kill El Toro. He thought he'd hit the child harder. Apparently, the boy had a hard as head as his old man had in the ring.

Which begged the question…how much did the boy remember? There was no statute of limitations on murder. If the boy recalled his face, told the police…

_I need to know if he remembers. I need to find him. But how am I going to find one man in all of London_?

The bicycle. He dimly recalled a ladder, sticking out the back.

_He's a leerie._

There were many of those in London. But it was a place to start.

* * *

It was Thomas who first noticed that Jack wasn't himself in the morning. Normally, Jack was the first one up, jolting him and Angus out of bed with a song or a joke. Thomas was the youngest of the three men who split the rent on a tiny flat near the river. Jack was like an obnoxious older brother, but Thomas loved him all the same. So when he opened his eyes and noticed that Jack was still in bed, facing the wall, the first thing Thomas was, was concerned.

He tiptoed across the floor, past a snoring Angus. Quietly, he shook Jack's shoulder. "Jack," he whispered. It was just turning pink outside. "Jack," Thomas said again, louder. He jiggled Jack's arm harder, and Jack's eyes flew open with a short gasp of pain.

It was then Thomas realized he'd been pulling on Jack's bad arm. "Criminy, Jack, 'm sorry!" Thomas yelped, waking Angus across the room. "I-I didn' mean t-"

"Bloody _hell_, Tom!" Jack growled. "What d'ya think you're on about?" The older man swung himself out of bed and Thomas scrambled back as a bleary-eyed Angus watched in confusion.

"I-you-I was-"

"Was _what_?" Jack sniped. "Tryin' to kill me? You 'appen to forget that I once had a _bullet_ in that arm?"

"Calm down, Jack!" Angus cut in, finally understanding what had happened. "Tom wasn't thinkin'," he said, trying to mediate between the two. "Tom, get dressed an' take a walk," he ordered him. The younger man grabbed his clothes and fled the room. Angus turned his attention to Jack.

His flatmate looked miserable. "You all righ' there, mate?" Angus asked him. He knew Jack had been out with the lady Jane last night, but he hadn't heard him come in.

"'m fine," Jack said shortly. He took a breath and let it out. "Damn it," he swore. "I need to go find Thomas, tell 'im I'm sorry."

"You bloody well better," Angus agreed. "Dunno what the 'ell that was, but 'e didn' deserve that." He shook his head as Jack moved into the bathroom to get ready for the day. "Lousy way to start the day," Angus groaned, flopping back onto his bed.

* * *

Jack pushed his bike up the hill along the Thames toward his next lamp. The sun was trying to push through the chilly morning. The patches of shade were cold, but the open spaces of sunlight were at least bearable. Jack propped his bike against a lamp and unbuckled his ladder from the back of his bike. His mind was anywhere but on his job. He hadn't run into Thomas through the morning. He felt horrible for how he'd reacted to the younger leerie that morning. _Just because I'm in a lousy mood doesn't mean that I should take it out on Tom._

He wondered what Bert would have said, if it had been him. Jack smiled to himself as he doused the lamp and headed back down his ladder. Bert wouldn't have let him get away with it, that's for sure. He'd told Jane once that he didn't see Bert angry often, but when he did…the man was a force to be reckoned with!

He propped the ladder up at the next lamp and wondered what Bert would have to say about the whole thing with Jane. Jack chewed on his lip as he headed up the ladder, the night before replaying in his mind. He didn't regret it…well, he didn't regret it _too_ much. It was all true. Jane Banks was a lady of class, and who was he to think that a lady like her deserved a lamplighter like himself?

He loved her, there was no denying it. And if things were different, if he wasn't just a leerie…

Clouds drifted in front of the sun, as if sensing his mood, and he shivered. Bert used to be able to tell when it was going to snow for the first time of the season, just by the change in the air, and Jack wondered if it wasn't coming soon. Jack slid down the ladder to the sidewalk and continued on, cramming his hat on his head as the wind started to pick up.

He paused, hopeful, but it was a north wind.

_That's a _shame. Problems seemed to disappear when Mary Poppins was round. _Appears as those you're solvin' this one on your own, mate. _

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Jane glanced up from the coffee cup in her hand as Fiona Walters plopped down across from her at the table. The two were on a well-deserved break at the Hamden Soup Kitchen, packed full of down-and-out folks at the lunch hour.

Jane smiled, but it was forced. "Sorry, Fiona, what?"

The plump Irishwoman frowned. "Where're you off to?" Fiona asked her. "You've been a bit out of it all day."

"I…didn't sleep much last night," Jane confessed. Unwittingly, her eyes flicked around the room, looking for a certain hat and red waistcoat.

"I haven't seen Jack today, either," Fiona offered, and watched Jane's face flush pink. "Thought so," Fiona said. "What happened then? Did you two have a row?"

"I wouldn't call it that," Jane said, and swallowed hard in an effort to keep the tears from falling. _Not the time and place to fall apart, Jane Banks_, she chided herself silently. _Not when so many around you have it much worse off._

Fiona sensed something was wrong with her coworker and her friend. "Are you okay, Jane?" she asked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion but privately enough.

She shook her head. _You deserve everything. I don't even know my own last name. _"I don't know, Fi." Jane sipped at her coffee, lukewarm now instead of hot. "I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach like things won't be okay again, if I'm honest. I think Jack and I...I think we're broken up."

Fiona's jaw dropped. She stood up quickly, looking around the room. "Andy!" she yelled across the room to a handsome, Viking-esque man. "We're goin' for a walk!" she hollered, catching his attention. Then, before he had time to argue, Fiona had grabbed Jane's hand and pulled her out the exit.

Andy Haversham watched the door close and shook his head. "I'll just…hold down the fort on m'own, then, thanks," he muttered to no one in particular.

"Sale at Harrod's?" a voice chimed in to his left, and Andy turned. The man seated at the end of the table had thinning black hair and a graying goatee. He wore a black coat buttoned to the chin. He was grinning at Andy.

Andy nodded to him. "I've given up on tryin' to think like a woman. I find it only complicates my life," he shrugged.

"Aye, they're a mystery to be sure," the man agreed. "They work with you, don't they? For SPRUCE?"

"Indeed they do," Andy said. "I'm sorry, where are my manners. I'm Andrew Haversham, everyone calls me Andy."

"Pleasure, Andy," the man shook his hand. "Eddie. Can't thank you enough for everything you do for us, 'specially now during the Slump and all."

"Oh, we're just helping everyone along until things get back on their feet," Andy brushed it off. "What's your story, Eddie?"

Eddie looked down at his bowl of soup before answering. "Laid off from the docks," he said. "Got a bum leg, you see."

Andy nodded sympathetically. "Sorry to hear that," he said. "No chance of gettin' back on at some point?"

"Not likely. 'Fraid the damage has been done," Eddie explained. "Was jumped awhile back, you see," he continued. "Fellow put my knee out of joint. Never did heal right."

"Desperate folks out there," Andy pointed out. "Sorry to hear all that. Did you get a good look at him?"

Eddie nodded. "Tall fellow. Seemed like a working class man like ourselves. Hat, jacket. Red waistcoat."

Andy frowned. _Something about that description…_ "Did he say anything to you?" Andy asked.

"Just 'sorry,' as he ran off with my wallet," Eddie replied. "Cockney accent, or somethin' like it."

_Cockney accent. Tall. Red waistcoat_. _No…surely it couldn't be. _

"He rode off on a bicycle," Eddie continued, and had Andy been paying more attention, he would've noticed Eddie watching him with great interest.

But Andy's mind was racing a mile a minute. "I should be gettin' back to the serving line," Andy said distractedly. "Nice to meet you, Eddie, and I'm sorry about your job." He nodded politely to the man and then hurried back to the giant pots of soup and the long line of people.

Edward Underhill offered him a two-fingered wave. "Not half as sorry as he'll be," he whispered under his breath, pretending to blow on his soup.

* * *

**Author's Note**: For clarification's sake, "Eddie" isn't 100% on to Jack just yet. Just figuring the local soup kitchen might be a good place to start asking around. Movie coincidence/Andy-ex-machina that he just so happens to pick a fellow that knows Jack!


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Jane Banks," Fiona scolded her friend as they sat down on a park bench. "And you didn't say _anything_?"

Jane scoffed. "What should I have said, Fiona? It sounds like his mind is made up." She slouched against the back of the bench, blowing into her gloves to warm her hands.

Fiona leaned back, eyeing her friend intently. "Jane. When he said he loved you…what did _you_ say?"

Jane closed her eyes, remembering the conversation. "I didn't say anything," she admitted. Fiona gasped, and Jane shook her head. "Fiona, really. For one thing, I never got the chance! Jack sort of kept stumbling through his excuses and then he left before I could say anything!"

"Jane, darling," Fiona told her, "that would be one of those moments it's all right to interrupt!" She leaned forward. "You look me in the eye right now and you tell me. Do you love Jack?"

The blonde woman gasped. "Fiona!"

The Irishwoman didn't seem fazed by the outburst. "'Cause if you're not plannin' on pursuin' him, do you mind if I do?" Fiona winked at Jane. "He's such a handsome gent! Not sure if it's those gorgeous eyes or that smile of 'is, but-"

"All right, that's enough," Jane said, laughing. She sighed, shaking her head. "I do, Fiona, I love him. I really do." She threw her hands in the air. "I don't care that he lives with three other men, I'd move in with them if it meant I got to spend the rest of my life with him. I would work another job. I-"

"All right, all right, I get it," Fiona interrupted her. She took her friend's hand. "Jane, you've got to tell him. You need to track him down and _tell him_. Men like Jack don't come round every day, in _any_ social class!"

"But what if he's right, Fiona?" Jane asked sadly. "How do we make this work?"

"Sweetheart, you'll make a way!" Fiona promised her. "It seems to me that between the two of you, an' everything you've been through, that there's nothin' that can't be done."

The pronunication made Jane smile. "You always know exactly what to say, Fiona" she toldd Fiona, giving her friend a hug. "Thank you, for this. I'm sorry you had to listen to me moan and complain. How can I make it up to you?"

Fiona waggled her eyebrows. "Ask Jack if he's got a brother."

* * *

Jack walked wearily up the steps to the flat and let himself in. The front room was empty, save for Thomas, who was seated in the worn-out chair. The younger man leapt up as Jack pushed the door shut. "Jack! I'm so sorry about this morning, I-"

"Say no more, Tom," Jack held his hands. "'m the one who ought to be sorry. Had no right to jump on you like that." He patted the younger man on the back. "Don't suppose you and Angus saved me some supper, did you?"

"Angus picked up soup from the soup kitchen, but it's probably cold by now," Thomas said apologetically.

"Aye, it does take a bit longer for me to get around," Jack agreed, trying to laugh it off. He hoped William Wilkinson was enjoying his time in prison. Jack's shoulder didn't hurt as much when he reminded himself that the person responsible for the injury was locked in a freezing cold cell.

"Also, it's Friday," Thomas said carefully. "You're usually not here."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, I may be spendin' my Fridays here for the near future," he admitted, walking past Thomas and dropping into the chair Thomas had vacated. He ran a hand over his face. "Not sure Jane's interested in seein' me anytime soon."

"What?" Thomas reached for one of their kitchen chairs and turned it backwards so he was facing Jack. "What do you mean?" Thomas had seen Jack with Jane often, he'd been at the Spring Fair last year when they'd gone floating into the sky together. He liked her; she always had a smile for him when she saw him at the soup kitchens or at a SPRUCE rally.

Jack rehashed the evening before with his flatmate, whose face fell. "Aw, Jack. 'M sorry."

"It's a'ight, Thomas. Maybe it's for the best." Jack shrugged, trying to make light of it. "Anyway, I shouldn't spend time doin' other things when it takes me so long to do my route these days." He brushed past Thomas to his chest of drawers to grab a fresh shirt, then headed downstairs to use the bathroom. He barely nodded hello to Angus on his way down.

Angus stopped on the stairs, watching him go. Then, he looked up at Thomas.

"What'd I miss, then?"

* * *

Ellen answered the insistent ringing of the doorbell, annoyed that someone was interrupting supper. "I don't understand what it is about people picking this time of night to visit-can I _help_ you, we're in the middle of supper!"

"I'm sorry to intude," Andy Haversham apologized, "but I really need to speak to Michael Banks. Is he here?"

"I'll get him!" a voice announced, and Andy and Ellen turned to see Georgie behind them, off at a run to the dining room, even as Ellen protested. A moment later, Michael was being dragged into the living room by Georgie. "Andy," Michael greeted him. "It's good to see you. Please, come in!"

"Shall I add an extra place then," Ellen asked, her voice suggesting it would be a horrible idea.

"Uh, no ma'am," Andy said. "I'm fine. I just need a moment," he added, looking directly at Michael. "If you don't mind."

"'Course not, Andy," Michael gestured to the living room. "Georgie, go and finish up, please." Ellen led the boy from the room and the two men took a seat in the opposite facing armchairs. He steepled his fingers and looked at Andy. "If you're looking for Jane, she's not here this evening."

"That's probably best," Andy said. "As what I'm about to tell you may be hard for you to hear…but it would break Jane's heart."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Michael was shaking his head in disbelief. "No. Not for a second. I didn't believe he'd kidnapped Georgie, and I don't believe that Jack-_our_ Jack-attacked and robbed a man." He rested his elbows on his knees, deep in thought. "Andy, when Jack was telling us that story, that day at the hospital…did he ever mention if they arrested the two men that jumped and killed his father?"

Andy shook his head. "Don't think so," he replied. "In all reality, they probably wouldn't have investigated it too much, that was just how it was. Still is, sometimes, I think," he added darkly. He ran a hand through his hair. "The whole thing strikes me as strange. For one thing…the story sounds awfully familiar."

"Yes, but it's all backwards," Michael nodded. "Everything this….Eddie…says, is what happened to _Jack_, not the other way round."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Andy said. "Seems pretty suspicious that this Eddie just so happens to have the exact same story. Makes me wonder if this Eddie fellow didn't do it. Kill Jack's father, I mean."

"But why go to all this trouble now, making up stories about Jack?" Michael wondered. He heard a yelp and a splash from upstairs, followed by his children's peals of laughter, and Ellen scolding John for something.

"'m thinking it might be best if I keep an ear to the ground for this Eddie," Andy said. "See if we can't figure out his game."

Michael was thoughtful, thinking. "Perhaps we should go to the police. We could speak with Officer Daugherty. If this man is asking questions after all these years…Jack could be in trouble."

"Isn't he always?" Andy questioned with a half smile, and Michael couldn't help but agree.

* * *

**Author's Note**: It is my headcanon that Thomas is the leerie in the pink/red and blue striped shirt with Angus and the others in the background when Jack is giving Jane the pink balloon.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

It was dark when Jack awoke the next morning. In an effort to make amends for his behavior the day before, he smiled as he grabbed Thomas's blankets with his good hand and dragged them down to the foot of the bed, grabbed Angus's pillow from underneath his head and tossed it across the room. As his roommates yelped and complained, Jack grinned with a satisfied smile and got dressed to head onto his route. There was something niggling in the back of his mind, wondering if he should be happy considering all that had happened. _But then, Jack, you can't stay miserable your whole life,_ he told himself. _There's nowhere to go but up_.

He wondered if Jane was doing all right as he picked up his bike and torch and headed out to do his job. Jack gave a wave to the apple seller as he took off down the alley, grateful that the man continued to let him have an apple for free for the boy on the corner. Once upon a time, Jack had _been_ that boy. His mind wandered, unbidden, back to when he'd been living on the street, before Bert had found him huddling against a chimney on a cold winter morning. Things had seemed pretty bleak then. But they'd turned around in the end. _Things'll turn around again_, he told himself. He sighed, then continued his route, whistling a tune Bert had taught him.

* * *

Beside the apple seller, a man with graying hair watched as Jack tossed an apple with one hand toward a young boy standing with his sister on the corner. "That fellow there, you're all right with him stealing from you?" He seemed surprised.

The apple seller shrugged and stroked his white beard. "It's only one or two, here and there. Once knew a boy just like him, used to nick apples from my cart. I figure I can lose an apple or two to someone who needs it more than I do."

"He seems like a regular Robin Hood," Edward Underhill said. "Do you know his name, by chance?"

The apple seller nodded. "Goes by Jack. He's a leerie."

Edward nodded. "And he comes by here every morning, does he?" He shook the apple seller's hand. "I'd like to give him my thanks, for bein' a good Samaritan. We need more of those in the world."

"He's one of the best. Saved a kidnapped boy awhile back. Got shot in the process, though you'd never know it watching him ride that bicycle." The apple seller chuckled at the look of disbelief on Edward's face. "Good man, Jack."

Edward nodded, his mind whirling as he continued to play the part. "I'm sure that he is." He paid for an apple and turned to walk down the street.

It was time for a little light reading. A look back through old copies of the papers might tell him if the now-grown man recalled anything from that evening so long ago. If he didn't, there was nothing to worry about.

Otherwise, Edward mused, he would just have to ask this Jack himself.

* * *

Officer Daugherty of the London Constabulary was starting to think he should put the Banks family on his Christmas card list, for as often as he was seeing Michael Banks. He had been the one to travel to Croydon with his family to rescue their youngest son when he'd been kidnapped by William Wilkinson. He'd had to track down Michael to track down Jack the leerie (who always seemed to be round them, Daugherty hadn't quite figured that one yet) to get his statement on a riot in the middle of town. And now, Michael Banks and a blonde man he didn't recognize were waiting for him at his desk when he returned from patrolling.

"Mr. Banks. We really ought to stop meeting like this," he said by way of greeting.

"Believe me, sir," Michael replied, "I'd just as soon not see you as often as we do, but it would appear that my friend and I need to request your services." He gestured to Andy. "This is Mr. Andrew Haversham, he works for-"

"SPRUCE," Daugherty nodded, and off Michael's confused look, explained, "I see him out and about."

Michael nodded. "Er, right. Anyway, we're here about our friend Jack-"

"Jack the leerie?" Daugherty interrupted him again. "Mr. Banks, you're going to keep me in line for a promotion between the two of you, I swear."

"And it would be well-earned," Michael assured him.

"We're wondering if you know anything about a murder case from around 30 years ago. A boxer was killed in an alley. Stabbed. His son was taken to the hospital but ran away," Andy said.

Officer Daugherty steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "A boxer, eh?"

Andy nodded. "Yes sir. He was probably an immigrant. From Spain, perhaps?" He looked to Michael for confirmation. He nodded.

"Does seem to me I've heard about it," Daugherty frowned. "But what does that have to do with the two of you?"

Michael and Andy exchanged a look. Andy shrugged as if to say, _you tell him_. Michael ran a hand over his face. "We're thinking the boy might be my friend. Jack."

Daugherty couldn't hold back a bark of laughter. "You must be joking." He studied Michael's face. "Dear Lord, you're serious."

"Very much so," Andy spoke up. "Officer Daugherty, we have reason to believe he might be in trouble."

"Seems that trouble follows him around, doesn't it?"

Michael stood up, planting his hands on either side of the desk. He glared at Daugherty. "Look, you know me, and you know my family. You know that Jack is a friend. He's helped me family more times than I care to admit out loud, and if he's in trouble, I want to return the favor, so, _please_."

Andy put a hand on Michael's shoulder, gently pushing him down, back into his seat. Then, he relayed the story from the soup kitchen to the officer. "I would call that probable cause, Officer. And it's easily verified, isn't it?"

Daugherty eyed Andy warily. Then, "Half a mo'." He got up from his chair and disappeared into a room marked RECORDS. Michael and Andy waited, Michael tapping his foot impatiently against the side of the desk, which earned him several dark looks from the other men around Daugherty's desk. He ignored them. A few minutes later, Daugherty returned with a worn-looking file folder. "Someday," he sighed, "there'll be a much easier way to store all these." He sat down and Michael and Andy leaned forward as the officer started rummaging through the folder. "This is an unsolved case," he explained as he scanned the folder. "A lorry driver found a little boy-they guessed he was 'round five years old- and an older man, unconscious, in an alley. He took them both to the nearest hospital." He flipped up the medical chart. "The boy had a broken nose. The older man, numerous bruises, cuts, and a particularly nasty knife wound."

Michael and Andy exchanged a look. "Sounds about right," Michael said. "Officer, that little boy is Jack. And I think…I think the man that killed his father might be trying to find him."

"And why would that be?" Daugherty asked, but it was more out of genuine interest now.

Michael tapped the folder. "Because this case was never solved."

"And if Jack manages to recall a face from that night…" Andy pointed out, "he's all that's standing between this Eddie and a prison cell."

Daugherty nodded, processing. He looked at the two men across from him. "Any idea where this Jack might be?"

Michael checked his watch. "It's early enough that he may still be putting out lamps."

"I'll send some boys out looking for him, bring him in. Let him know what's going on." Daugherty shook Michael's hand, then Andy's, and escorted them out. "I'll keep you appraised of the situation," he promised them.

Michael put on his hat as they stepped outside into the cold morning. "There's someone else who ought to know what's going on," he heard Andy say as they walked toward the road.

That was _not_ a conversation Michael was looking forward to having.

* * *

Jane Banks was _very_ confused when Andy telephoned her that morning and asked her to come by the Brookings Café. For one, it was Andy calling to invite her to a cafe, which was strange enough in itself, but even stranger when he told her that he _and_ Michael would meet her there in ten minutes.

So when she spotted them in a corner table at the café, she didn't even bother to let the host seat her, she was already sliding in next to Andy with a short, "All right you two, what's going on?"

"It's about Jack," Andy broached the conversation quietly. Jane raised an eyebrow at Andy, about to tell him _and_ her brother that her personal life was none of his business, but the look on Michael's face, well…Jane stayed quiet. Andy glanced at Michael, got a nod, and explained, "At the soup kitchen the other day…I spoke with a gentleman. He told me…said he got into a fight with Jack awhile back and Jack crippled him. Stole from him and left him on the ground."

Jane's eyes went wide. "Y-you're joking. _Jack_? My Jack?" The word tumbled out before she could think about them, but she was in too much shock to retract it. "Andy, you've met Jack. The man doesn't have a bone like that in his body! Jack? The man who regularly flies kites with your _children_, Michael. The man who saved Georgie's _life_." She pointed across the table to her coworker. "The one who had you carry me to the hospital, Andy." Jane shook her head and returned her focus to her brother. "Jack, who can barely steer his bicycle with one arm because he took a _bullet_ for your son. _That_ Jack?" She was punctuating each statement with a slap to the table.

Michael gripped her hand across the table tightly, to avoid the looks the patrons around them were giving her. "Jane, calm _down_."

She removed her hand from his, arms crossed defensively over her chest. Andy glanced around, then leaned forward. "I'm _not_ joking, and I don't believe it for a second."

Jane narrowed her eyes at him. "Then why-"

"Jane, please, shut up for a moment," Michael ordered his sister in a low whisper. She gasped and looked at her brother. "Neither one of us believes it. Because the story this man told Andy…we've heard it before. And so have you."

"What do you mean, Michael? I don't-" She didn't want to be talking about Jack.

"_Jane_," Michael said, harsher now. "Please. When you were in the hospital, after the accident at the rally. Jack was telling you about his childhood. You wouldn't remember most of it, you were unconscious. But Andy and I…we were listening to him." Michael leaned forward across the table and took his sister's hand as Andy said,

"Jane, the story this man told me is damn near _identical_ to the one Jack told us about the night that his father was killed."

Jane sat back in the booth and crossed her arms. "Well, that doesn't make sense. Unless-" She paused. "Unless this man was there. But then-"

"We're pretty sure this Eddie is one of the men that roughed up Jack's father. We don't know if he killed him or not, but he was there," Michael confirmed. "And Jack was young, he may not even remember their faces, but Eddie doesn't know that."

"And you think this man is looking for Jack? To-to do what, exactly?" Jane felt sick to her stomach as the realization kicked in.

"To see what he remembers," Andy told her.

"And what if he…he _does_ remember this man's face?" Jane's eyes flew to her brother's. "We have to find him, Michael. We have to warn him, let him know-"

"The police are already out looking for him," Michael assured her. "In the meantime, we were thinking there's another way we can help." He squeezed his sister's hand. "Do you know where we can find Jack's flatmates? The more eyes we have looking, the more people watching, the better."

Jane glanced at the clock on the wall above the cash register and began pushing Michael out of the booth. "Angus. Today is Saturday. Jack told me Angus shines shoes at Charing Cross on Saturdays after his lamps are lit."

Michael nodded. "Angus can put the word out among the other leeries." He smiled. "See? Everything's going to be fine, Jane."

His sister smiled back, but Michael knew better.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; they belong to Rob Marshall and Disney.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Edward Underhill limped down the steps of the _London Gazette_ and into the chilly London afternoon. People around him bundled further into their coats and shivered against the wind that had started to pick up.

Edward hated winter. It made his leg ache more, and this winter was shaping up to be even more bitter cold than any before. There had been no mention in archived papers of the events of that night. It didn't really surprise him. And so no one knew his name. There was no description of his face, or Amos's.

It should have ended right there. But Edward couldn't forget about Jack. Paranoia is a powerful thing. There was always a chance. A possibility.

He needed to know. Needed to be sure. He thought about what he'd learned in the past few days. The leerie, his route took him down the street by the apple cart and the grocer's.

Well, it wasn't like he had a job to get to. Perhaps a stakeout was in order.

* * *

"I miss Jack," Georgie Banks said miserably. He sat on the bottom step of 17 Cherry Tree Lane, head in his hands, eyes staring down the road, ears straining to catch the sounds of wooden bicycle wheels.

John put an arm around his little brother. "I know, Georgie," he told him. "Me too." The door closed and Annabel joined them on the stairs.

"Nothing yet?" she asked her brothers.

Both boys shook their heads, and she sighed. "I don't understand. Was it something….did _we_…"

"Definitely not," a new voice said, and the three Banks children looked up to see their father quietly leaning against the pillar. Michael tsked and came to sit by them, putting a long leg on either side of Georgie. He curled Annabel into his side and gave her a hug. "It absolutely wasn't anything you did."

"You told us not to pester Aunt Jane with questions," John said. He and Annabel exchanged looks. "Only…"

"Only what?" Michael asked him gently. His two oldest were too much like himself and his sister; he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"Only we _might_ have asked Jack," Annabel said. She leaned back, looking up at her father tearily. "Is it because we asked when he was going to marry Aunt Jane?" she asked. "Do you think we made him go away?"

"Annabel Katherine Banks," Michael scolded gently. "I repeat, it was _nothing_ that you did." He ruffled Georgie's hair and poked John in the nose. "That conversation has been a long time coming between your aunt Jane, and Jack. And sometimes…sometimes adults have to make decisions that are very hard." He ran a finger down the side of Annabel's face. "Jack loves the three of you very much. No matter what happens between him and your aunt, he will always be your friend." Michael sighed. "I think that Jack probably just needs some time to think for awhile."

"Do we make it hard to think?" Georgie questioned.

Michael coughed out a laugh. "Sometimes, Georgie, you really do!" He smiled at his youngest. "But that's what we love about you." He looked at the twins. "And the two of you should ask all the questions in the world…only, at the right time." This elicited a smile from John and Annabel, and he patted them both on the shoulder. "All right, then, you three. It's too cold to be sitting out here." He shivered. "What do you say to some hot cocoa?"

Georgie's eyes widened in delight. "Really?" He jumped up, nearly clocking his father under the chin. "Yay!"

"Oh, I think tonight would be a good night for a treat, and your mother always did say that chocolate cured many ills." Michael glanced backwards, and winked at Ellen, who pretended she hadn't been watching the entire time through the curtains. He hugged all three of his children, then stood up and led them back inside just as the first snowflakes started to fall from the sky.

* * *

Jane Banks sat on her sofa, mug of hot cocoa in hand, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. She was exhausted, physically _and_ mentally, with everything that had happened the past few days.

Her eyes drifted to a photograph on the table next to the sofa. Winnifred and George Banks smiled at her from the gilded frame. Her mother was seated on a white stool in her wedding dress, while her father stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder, the other behind his back. Jane traded the mug in her hand for the photograph, studying it.

She still had the dress. When their mother had passed away, George Banks had let Jane choose what she wanted to remember her mother by. Her mother's wedding ring had gone to Michael (for Kate, though he didn't know it then), but Jane had ran one finger down the lace of the dress and knew that she wanted to wear it one day.

That had been fine with Kate. Kate had laughed off the idea, saying, "Layers and lace aren't exactly my style!" Then she'd softened, and told Jane, "It's yours. You'll look lovely in it someday."

Jane had always dreamed of that day. She'd never seen who was standing next to her, but she'd dreamed the rest of it. It was always in the park, in the gazebo. When she'd been a child, it had been her father giving her away, but in recent years, that had changed to Michael. Annabel, in a pink dress with a floppy sun hat, with a bouquet of yellow tulips. John and Georgie in their Sunday best, standing alongside Michael and _someone_ in a suit. Kate had once been in her dreams as her maid of honor, but dreams change. _Who would it be now_, she wondered. _Fiona? Someone she hadn't met yet?_

And who would be standing beside her? Someone she knew? Someone she hadn't met yet?

She closed her eyes.

The dream changed again.

_It was a sunny, spring days. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom along Cherry Tree Lane_. _The park was bright and green. A light breeze lifted the curls from Jane's neck as she walked down the path with her arm tucked in Michael's. Michael was smiling at her, looking sharp in his black suit, a yellow tulip in his buttonhole. She smiled back, watched Annabel ahead of them in a bright yellow dress with a big bow tied in the back and a straw sunhat with a yellow ribbon. She smiled at some of Michael's friends from work as they passed, noticed Angus, Thomas, and a few of the other leeries on the other side of the path. There were some friends from Cherry Tree Lane there as well. _

_John and Georgie were rocking on their heels excitedly, standing next to Andy just below the steps of the gazebo. Michael stopped at the bottom of the steps, kissed her on the cheek, and offered her arm to-_

_Jack._

_Jack was there. Standing beside her. _

Her eyes flew open. She hadn't realized that she'd fallen asleep. Jane stretched, noticing that she'd been holding her parents' wedding photo to her chest.

She knew now, with complete certainty, that it didn't matter Jack's social standing, or his income. She _loved_ him. It was Jack and had always been Jack.

_I have to talk to Jack._ _I need to tell him everything. Let him make his decision from there, either way, but he needs to know. Then I'll have done my part, like Fiona said. _Jane glanced at the clock. Nearly ten. Jack would be long finished with his lamps by now. It was too late now to go out looking.

But she knew where to find him in the morning. She leaned back on the sofa again and closed her eyes with a smile on her face.

She'd forgotten all about her worries from earlier. Dreams, especially good ones, can often distract from reality.

* * *

Jack and Angus walked home together after work that night. Thomas had wanted to come but Jack wouldn't let him go to the pub as he was too young. Angus swayed a little and Jack had to chuckle. Angus was many things-a good friend, great at his job, a fantastic singer and light on his feet…but he was also light on his imbibing.

"Seems you've tripped more than the light fantastic tonight," Jack teased him as he steadied him, the two of them making their way down the hill from the pub. "What was in that last one, exactly?"

"Bit o' everythin'," Angus slurred. He wobbled and Jack gripped him harder with his good arm. Bert would've been right on the money, the first few flakes of snow were just starting to fall, making the sidewalk slick. "Asked Emily to surprise me," Angus grinned goofily.

"Yeah, and I'd say she succeeded," Jack agreed, grabbing the side of the apple seller's wagon as best he could. "Perhaps next time you could ask her to do that without 'alf the shelf?"

Angus laughed loudly. "I should, at that," he replied. He stumbled, bringing both men down to their knees, and Jack groaned at the strain on his arm. Jack shook his head. "C'mon, Angus," he grimaced. "Up you get."

"Think I'm good 'ere, thanks," Angus replied, his voice quieter now. He leaned against the wagon and closed his eyes. "Think I'll rest a bit."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, Angus, come on, you can't sleep here, you'll freeze to death." He looked around for any kind of help, but no one was out in the weather. He raised his eyes to the sky and shook his head. _'s what I get, shouldn'ta taken 'im out tonight. _"Of all the-"

"Need some help?" A door opened across the street and a man stepped outside, shrugging into a threadbare gray coat.

Jack's ears tinged pink as he responded, "'Fraid my friend had a bit too much tonight. Don' suppose you'd be able to 'elp me take 'im to our flat?"

The man nodded. "Of course." He came around the other side of Angus and helped Jack raise him to his feet. "Do you live far?"

Jack nodded. "Just up ahead," he explained. "'s not much farther." The two of them started forward, carrying a half-asleep Angus between them. "Name's Jack," Jack introduced himself. "And this lug is Angus."

"Pleasure," the man nodded. "I'm Eddie."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Thomas looked up from his whittling as the door opened to the flat and Jack came inside, along with another man and Angus inbetween them. "What's with him?" Thomas asked, pointing at Angus.

"You know Angus," Jack replied. Thomas watched his roommate and the stranger manhandle Angus over to his bed, where the other man immediately started snoring. Jack ran a hand down his face. "'m sorry about all this," he apologized. At Thomas's questioning look, Jack nodded to Eddie. "Right, sorry. Tom, this is Eddie. He 'appened to be in the right place at the right time tonight," he said, turning to the older man. "Thank you," Jack said.

Eddie shrugged. "Weren't nothin'." He shivered. "Well, if that's all, I'll be on my way back," he said.

Jack looked at Tom. The teenager grinned. "Oh, no worries, mate, I'll look after Angus." He shook his head. "I'm reminded again why I don' want to ever try liquor," he added, looking at their roommate.

"You shouldn't, it's not fit for a man your age," Eddie told him, sounding as if he spoke from experience.

"I'll walk you down," Jack offered, tossing his hat on the bed. He wouldn't be needing it again tonight. "Be right back, Tom," he told Thomas. He let Eddie go first, then followed the older man down the stairs, noting the man's limp as he navigated the stairs. "That was a good piece of advice you gave young Tom back there," he told Eddie as they walked down the stairs.

"Well, it's been my experience that it does nothing but harm," Eddie explained as he pulled out his hat and put it on. "Makes men do things they regret."

"Aye, and there's the truth of it," Jack agreed. Something tickled his memory. "My father always told me it would bring more 'arm than good," he said, wondering where _that_ bit of advice had come from. "I don't think I ever saw 'im drink a drop." _Not even...not even after a fight_.

"Sounds like your father is a smart man," Eddie said. The two of them stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "Is he a lamplighter as well?"

_Papi!_ The term of endearment rattled around in Jack's brain, and he paused. "Uh. No, he is…he was…He died when I was very young," Jack said, not sure why he was having this conversation.

_Two's where you should've stopped, El Toro._

Jack caught Eddie looking at him strangely. "I-Sorry," he apologized. "Maybe I had more'n I should've tonight as well." He stuck out a hand. "Thank you, Eddie."

"No, I should be the one apologizing, didn't mean to bring up bad memories," Eddie replied, shaking his hand. "Heard a lot about you, Jack," he admitted, stopping with one hand on the doorknob. Jack arched an eyebrow, and Eddie assured him, "All good things. I heard you saved a little boy's life a while back?"

Jack blushed. "Oh. I…weren't doin' nothin' that anyone else wouldn't have," he said. He looked at Eddie strangely. "How did you-"

"Or that you swipe an apple from the gentleman on the corner every morning for a little boy so he won't starve," Eddie continued, watching Jack intently. The leerie looked uncomfortable, taking his hand away from Eddie and shoving his hands awkwardly into his pockets. "I must say, you're quite the saint," Eddie told him. "Your father would be proud of his boy, I think," he added. "His…_hijo_, correct?"

Jack swallowed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "I…ah…I'd like to think so." He took a step backwards. "I best be gettin' back upstairs, check on Angus."

Eddie's hand shot out, grabbing Jack's left arm. A twinge of pain shot up Jack's arm, and he looked down in shock. Something silver glinted in Eddie's other hand. "But I'm enjoying your company so much, Jack," he said, all joviality gone from his voice. "I'd rather hoped it would continue. If you'd come with me, please," he said. "I'd rather not take this upstairs where your friends are. Thomas seems like a good gent."

Jack glared at him, wondering if he was quick enough to wrest himself from Eddie's grip and shove him out the door. Curiosity was getting the best of him. Jane or Michael, or even Angus, would have something to say about this plan, but none of them were here, and all three of them could be in trouble if... "Leave them alone," he said finally. "I'll go with you…but leave them be."

Eddie gestured with the knife in his hand. "After you," he said, tugging Jack forward and pushing him out the door.

They made it around the corner, Jack keeping his hands out to his sides. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Just to ask a few questions," Eddie said. "Only I'd rather not ask them in front of all your friends. You do seem to have a lot of friends, Jack."

"Ones that'll be missin' me come morning," Jack promised him. If there was one thing his friends were good at, it was finding him when he needed them the most.

"Oh, don't worry," Eddie assured him. He flipped the knife around in his hand, cracking the handle across the Jack's temple. The leerie dropped to the snow-covered ground with a cry of pain. "This shouldn't take that long." Jack tried to reach up, trying to feel the lump on his head, but Eddie pushed it away with his foot. He reached under Jack's arm-the left one, on purpose- and lifted him to his feet. Jack didn't offer much resistance.

He started down the street, hefting Jack along with him. The extra weight made it difficult on his limp, _but it adds to my story_, he thought to himself.

"Everything all right, there?"

Eddie looked up to see a constable coming from the opposite direction, eyeing the two of them. The constable was looking the both of them up and down with great scrutiny, but Eddie could see his breath, see him rubbing his hands together. "Ah, my friend had a bit too much tonight," Eddie explained with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Just making sure he gets home all right." He gestured to the moaning form beside him, gave Jack a shake. "Don't suppose you'd care to give me a hand?" he asked. He pointed. "It's about what, five blocks that way?"

The constable studied them. "I'll leave you to it," he said, shivering. "Tell your friend he'll owe you for taking him home in this weather." With that, he tipped his hat and walked on.

"Oh," Eddie replied, pulling Jack along, "I'll be sure to let him know."

* * *

Thomas glanced at the clock. Angus snored loudly on his bed, one arm hanging over the side. _Jack's not back yet...Jack should've been back_. _Something's not right...that fellow he was with...I didn't like him. _He stuck his whittling knife into the desk, the blade burying itself in the wooden top. He debated waking Angus up, but knew his friend wouldn't be much help, at least, not in his current condition.

He got up and went for Angus's coat, which was thicker than his own. _I'll find him_, he thought to himself as he shrugged into the sleeves. _I've got to find him. _

* * *

**Author's Note**: I'm having a devil of a time trying to figure out how to split these next couple chapters. That's why this one is so short. And Jack decided to go and be all noble in this chapter instead of my original idea, but it's so typical Jack.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; they belong to Rob Marshall and Disney.**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Thomas was freezing, but he continued to pedal. The wheels wobbled in the snow. His eyes scanned left and right looking for….well, looking for something out of the ordinary. Footprints, where there shouldn't be footprints. A light, where there shouldn't be a light. For a moment, he thought he should go back and get Angus _but Angus probably ain't in much shape_. _Hopefully he won't mind I borrowed his jacket_, Thomas bit his lip as he cut a corner, sliding around it.

"Whoa!"

Thomas stuck the toes of his boots into the snow in an attempt to stop before he ran into someone in a uniform on the road. The bike skidded in the wet snow, sending bike and rider into a stack of crates outside one of the shops.

A hand reached through the splintered wood and pulled him out. "You all right there?" The hand belonged to Officer Daugherty, who hadn't been able to get the Banks family and Jack the lamplighter out of his head all day.

"Thank the Lord," Thomas said, breathing hard from the near miss. "My friend, I think he's been kidnapped."

_You must be joking_. _What is it with this town_? "What makes you think that?" Daugherty asked him, studying the young man intently. _It's too late at night to be pulling a fast one_.

"I-Jack, he-he was-"

Daugherty's jaw dropped. "_Jack_, you say?"

Thomas paused. "I…you _know_ him?"

_Michael Banks is going to kill me. _"I do. Now, what do you mean, you think he's been kidnapped?"

Thomas quickly relayed the events of that evening, including a description of the man who had helped Jack bring Angus back up to the room. Daugherty's heart sank when he realized the teenager's spot-on description of Eddie. "We're going to need some more help," Daugherty said, looking around. "You know these streets pretty well?" he asked Thomas.

Thomas nodded. "Lit a lamp on nearly all of them, sir," he assured him.

Daugherty grabbed the boy by the shoulders. "Where can I find a phone?"

* * *

It was Ellen's experience that late-night phone calls were _never_ a good sign. So when she was awakened out of a dead sleep by the phone ringing downstairs, she did her best to beat Michael to the offending sound.

What she didn't know was that Michael had spent the night on the sofa downstairs, too worked up to sleep, and by the time she made it to the bottom, Michael was already putting on his jacket.

"Where are you goin' then?" Ellen demanded of him. "It's-why, it's almost two in the morning!"

"Officer Daugherty called," Michael said in a rushed whisper. "Jack is missing and I'm off to help look for him." He crammed his hat on his head, wound his scarf around his neck. "I'll be back before the children wake up," he promised.

"Let's hope so," Ellen muttered. "And Michael?"

He stopped with one hand on the door. "I'll set an extra plate or two for breakfast," Ellen told him meaningfully.

"We'll see you then," Michael said, and disappeared out into the snow. As an afterthought, he added, "Ellen. Best give Jane a call, yeah?"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Michael, Officer Daugherty and Thomas, Andy, Fiona, and Jane were standing ankle-deep in snow. "How're we going to find him in all this?" Fiona asked, shivering under her hood.

"Any footprints will be covered by now," Daugherty said. "Jack's been gone…what, about an hour?"

"Eddie said he worked at the docks before they laid him off," Andy suggested. "Maybe we start there?"

"That's halfway across the city," Jane objected. "He can't possibly have taken Jack that far…could he?" She was shaking, and not from the weather. Fiona wrapped a hand around her waist and gave her a reassuring hug.

"We don't know if he had a car, or help waiting," Daugherty pointed out.

"Wilkins made it all the way to Croydon," Michael added, kicking himself for his sister's expression, wishing he could immediately take the words back. "We're going to find him, Jane."

She nodded, but Michael could tell she wasn't convinced.

Thomas raised a hand, feeling very out of place among the adults. It was Michael who noticed him first. "Wait a moment, everyone." He looked at Thomas and nodded. "Go on, then."

"We don't have time-" Daugherty began, but Michael raised an eyebrow. The officer backed off.

"This time o'night, most of the city's dark, 'cept the lights," Thomas explained. "So, if you want to find Jack, then we ought to-"

"Follow the light," Jane finished his sentence quietly. "Look for a light…where there _shouldn't_ be a light!" She hugged Thomas. "That's what leeries do," she said with a sad smile. "When things get dark-"

"We follow the light," Thomas replied with a grin. "I can see why Jack likes you, miss." Jane squeezed his shoulder, then Officer Daugherty asked him a question and Jack's roommate ran over to him.

Michael came over to her, giving her a hug from behind. "We're going to find him, Jane," he said. He smiled. "After all, it _is_ our turn to rescue him, I think."

"You're keeping track?" Andy kidded.

"You're awfully cavalier about this," Jane said. She raised her hands to the sky. "In case you haven't noticed, the weather is working against us and Jack is potentially in the hands of a killer."

"Jack's proven himself remarkably adept at surviving," Michael pointed out. "He'll keep himself safe until we get there."

* * *

Jack didn't remember laying down. He just knew he was. His head was throbbing. _This's becomin' too much of a thing, Jack_, he thought to himself. Fire burned down his left arm, and he realized he was laying on it. He went to move it, realized it was attached to his right. He couldn't see anything, and when he moved his head, the fabric around his eyes moved as well. _My scarf_, he guessed.

"Sorry about the knock on the head," a voice said. "Had to make sure you wouldn't run away on me. 'Fraid I'm not in much condition to chase after you that way."

"Who are you?" Jack questioned, turning his head from side to side, trying to figure out where he'd heard the voice coming from. He also heard something else…but couldn't quiet place the sound.

"I'll be the one asking the questions, if you don't mind," the voice told him. Jack frowned, his eyes squinting through the fabric. The voice sounded…familiar, though the bump on the head was making it hard to focus . "Where are you from, Jack?"

It was an odd question. "London," Jack said. "Been here most of m'life."

"And your family?"

The word _family_ evoked pictures of Jane and Michael, Annabel, Georgie, and John, of Mary Poppins and Bert. And someone else…a dark haired man with twinkling brown eyes. _Count to twenty, m'ijo. In English this time. _A giggling little boy bouncing on his heels, proudly reciting his numbers in accented English. The memories stirred in Jack's subconscious.

"I-I don't know what you mean," Jack said. He certainly wasn't about to bring up any of those people in this situation. "I don't have any family to speak of." The voice bothered him. He knew he knew it, but couldn't place it. And it was dredging up _very_ uncomfortable memories. Bert had told him once that it was all right to remember, but remember the good things, not the bad ones.

"Do you know the name _El Toro_?"

Jack started as another wave of memories washed over him. _El Toro!_ _My Papi is El Toro, because he is big and strong, like a bull! _Crowds of people chanting the name, the sound of a bell. The line of questioning was confusing the hell out of him. "_El Toro_ is…_was_…the name my father fought…he was a boxer. I don't understand…who _are_ you?"

"Do you know how he died?"

Jack froze. He hadn't thought about that night since…not since he told Jane, Michael and Andy the story at the hospital. And that was only because he thought he ought to. Who _was_ this man, and why was he asking about that night?

"They never caught the men who attacked him in that alley. Do you remember what they looked like?"

"How do you know about that? Are you…some kind of constable?" Jack squeezed his eyes shut. "Why would you ask me that?" His breath quickened.

It hit him like the bullet in his shoulder had. One sentence.

_We had money on you beating Gladstone in two. _Jack straightened, his heartbeat quickening. He swallowed. "Don' remember what they looked like…but I know your voice. There were two men in the alley that night. My father gave them both a sound beating." His voice swelled with pride, unable to see the glower on Edward's face. "Drove one away, cryin' like a child." He leaned forward, nearly nose to nose with his captor, though he still couldn't see him. "Laid the other one out…just not as well as he thought. That one…Stuck a knife in his back…a _coward's_ move."

Tears mixed with anger and pain in his voice. "There's a reason I've been so on edge since you stepped out of that doorway. Why memories of my _pa_….my father, keep poppin' into my head. It was _you_." He strained at the ropes, his hands itching to get his fingers around the neck of the man in front of him. "Wasn't it…._Eddie_."

The other man said nothing for a few moments. Then, "I wish you hadn't said that, Jack. I really wish you hadn't."

"And what will you do abou' it then?" Jack countered. "'Fraid the blindfold was a bit useless, I've already seen your face. More'n once," he added darkly.

He felt a tug on the fabric and it was ripped away. He closed his eyes as bright light invaded his vision. When it settled, Eddie was staring him in the face. Jack flinched back. "I was hoping that you'd forgotten. That you didn't know anything about that night." Edward swallowed. "That my part in your father's death, that nobody knew who was responsible. Amos and I….we, I-"

"I was five years old," Jack said quietly, interrupting Edward. "My father and I…we were walking home. He was testing my English because he wanted me to start school the next fall. We were almost there when…when _you_…"

He looked at Edward furiously. "_Why_?" he whispered.

Edward's demeanor seemed to change. "Amos and I…we'd just gotten our wages for the week. Amos had heard of this boxer, this…_El Toro_, who had never lost a match. We placed our bets. Everyone kept saying 'El Toro will win in two,' so that's what we were wagering on." He picked up Jack by the lapels, surprisingly strong, lifting him off the floor. "But your father…it took him three rounds. We lost _everything_ that night."

"You lost a _paycheck_!" Jack hissed at him. "I lost my father. My _family_. And for what? A few pounds? Your _pride_?" Eddie dropped him back to the floor and pain radiated from his fingers to his shoulders. Jack grimaced, breathing through the pain. "You stabbed my father in the _back_ 'cause you knew you couldn't beat 'im in a fair fight." Edward backhanded him across the face. Jack barely felt it, he was so worked up. "I tried for _years_ to forget that night. And for awhile, I did. I 'ad friends…friends to help me remember my father 'ow he was, _alive_, rather'n that night." Jack shook his head. "I moved on. Unlike _you_. And so now what, Eddie? I recall _everythin'_. Maybe I wouldn't 'ave if you 'adn't shown up now."

He worked himself to a sitting position, looked Eddie dead in the face. "So I ask you again…what'll you do abou' it?"

Eddie limped over to the door, whipped it open. Cold air rushed into the room, and Jack got his first good look at where they were. The sound he hadn't been able to identify before…was _water_. The River Thames.

Jack flexed his wrists but the knots wouldn't give. _Just my luck_, he winced. He had a pretty good idea of what Eddie was planning next.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

"We may have something," Officer Daugherty stopped his car, coming alongside Michael, Jane, Andy and Fiona, who had been scouring the streets on foot. "One o' the boys just radioed, there's lights on down at the South Docks. That's his beat, but he says normally on weekends there's nobody there."

"A light where there shouldn't be a light," Jane said, grabbing Thomas's hand. The teenager looked proud, and embarrassed, at the same time. "How fast can we get there?"

Michael ran a hand over his face. "We won't all fit in the car-not if Jack-"

"We'll stay," Fiona offered with a glance at Andy. "You go on ahead."

"I'll stay as well," Michael decided. Jane's eyes went wide. "Jane, if something were to happen, I can't…the children-" He kissed her on the cheek and stepped back. "You go get him, Jane, and bring him _home_."

"Last call!" Daugherty yelled from his car, Thomas in the passenger's seat. Jane looked from the car to her brother. Michael nodded.

"Be safe, Jane," he ordered her.

"I will," she replied, and sprinted for the car. Her nose was pressed to the glass the entire drive. She closed her eyes. _Please be all right Jack. Please be safe._

* * *

Eddie reached for Jack, and Jack struck, kicking out with both feet, aiming for Eddie's bad leg. One foot connected, making the older man swear and stumble. Jack scrambled awkwardly to his feet, searching for another exit _preferably farther away from the river_. They were in some kind of warehouse or loading dock, and Jack spotted a set of larger doors toward the back, where the cargo was brought into the building, probably for storage. He took off toward it, cursing that he couldn't use his hands.

Hands grabbed his left arm and _yanked_. Jack swore as he was spun around, met with a fist to the stomach. He doubled over, and a second fist slammed into the middle of his back, dropping him to his knees.

"Damn you, Jack," Eddie growled at him.

"'s not me that'll be doin' the damning, thank you," Jack coughed out. Eddie grabbed him by the back of the jacket, started dragging him toward the door. Jack's feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor, anything to slow the bigger man down.

And then he heard it. Sirens. "In here!" Jack yelled, as loud as he could. "Somebody help! I'm in here!" He twisted, and Eddie let go of him. Jack landed on his right side, thankful it wasn't his left, still yelling for help. Eddie grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking him up and throwing an arm around his neck.

* * *

Daugherty slammed on the brakes, and Thomas and Jane were out before he'd even put the patrol car in park, searching the area for signs of life. "There!" Thomas pointed, ignoring the yells of Daugherty and the second officer telling them to stop. He and Jane ran on toward a building just feet from the river. Lights were blazing inside, and Jane's blood froze as she heard a familiar voice calling for help. "Jack. That's Jack!" she breathed as she and Thomas got closer. Thomas was the faster of the two, and got a glimpse of Jack and Eddie inside the building before Eddie beat him to the door and slammed it shut in Thomas's face.

Thomas yanked on the handle. "It's locked!" the leerie yelled to the approaching officers and Jane. "Jack's in there, all right, and so is that Eddie fellow."

Daugherty and the other officer ran up behind them. "We have to get in there somehow!" Jane begged. "Who knows what he's doing to Jack?"

"Doors on the other side are locked as well, sir," Daugherty's man informed him. "Windows, there, and there, but they're too high."

"Damn it," Daugherty swore. "How are we gettin' in then?"

Thomas shoved his hands in his pockets in frustration. His hands closed around something hard in Angus's left pocket. He pulled it out, and his eyes widened. "Maybe we don't need to get in," he said, holding out the object to Daugherty. "I think I know a way to get them _out_."

* * *

Inside, Jack lay on his side, glaring at Eddie, silently now, on account of the rag that taste suspiciously of grease or oil that Eddie had shoved in his mouth. Eddie paced back and forth, talking to himself. Jack's heart pounded. Help was here- he was certain that he'd seen Thomas -_Thomas, of all the people, he hadn't been expecting that one_-before Eddie had slammed the door shut. He was thankful, at least, that the path to the freezing river was now blocked off.

Unfortunately, so was the only way to freedom.

* * *

"This is either madness or brilliance," Jane whispered, watching Thomas work.

In one hand, he held Angus's flask, the top of it lying on the ground next to him. It wasn't an actual flask, but a smaller bottle of scotch that Angus kept and refilled on occasion. Angus knew that Jack and Thomas didn't approve of his liquor intake, and so Jack had told him that what fit in the bottle was all he was getting! The pub they frequented even knew about it, which was why Emily there considered it a challenge to see what she could fill it with. Officer Daugherty was walking the perimeter of the building, and his subordinate, who had introduced himself as Carmichael, was pouring something into the flask, very carefully, so it didn't spill. Then, Thomas was holding out a hand to Jane. "Mind if I borrow your scarf, Miss Jane?" he asked shyly.

She unwrapped it and handed it over, wincing slightly as Thomas grabbed a few of the fringes, unraveling it partway. Carmichael sliced off the threads and Thomas twisted them together, then shoved them into the mouth of the flask. "Hope Angus don't mind," the teen muttered. Then, he looked at Jane. "You may want to step back," he said.

"They're dead center in the building," Daugherty whispered, coming back to the group. "Managed to hoist myself up to the window long enough to see. Jack's on the ground, Underhill's about four feet in front of him, pacing." He shook his head. "Probably wasn't expectin' on getting caught. Anyway…any wall will do, Mr. Thomas."

"Okay," Thomas said. He looked at the three of them, grinned. "I don't normally hafta ask this, but….anybody got a light?"

* * *

Jack's tongue worked around the rag in his mouth, finally getting it to a place where he could spit it out. "Give it up, Eddie, 's over," he said, surprising Eddie mid-stride. "Police're probably outside right now. There's nowhere to go."

"Shut up," Eddie said, rounding on him. "Shut _up!_" He took a step toward Jack. "Everything would be fine if it weren't for _you-"_

There was a crash, and behind them, the wall exploded. Jack saw stars and felt a rush of heat. After that, everything was a blur. He saw Eddie on the ground, and a man in black wrestling with him on the floor. He heard someone yelling for water, and then he felt himself being pulled into a bone-crushing hug, and he looked up to see Jane Banks above him, tears in her eyes. She helped him to his feet, felt the ropes binding his hands give way, and he threw his arms around her.

* * *

Michael Banks' dining room was packed. Outside, the weather was chilly, the snow still falling and the temperature hovering right around freezing, but inside the house was a different scene. The dining room table was covered with food, and the seats were filled. Michael and his children, Jane, Jack, Officer Daugherty, Fiona and Andy, Thomas, and a mostly-awake Angus, who was furious that he'd missed the action, but happy that his coat and his flask had been involved.

Michael didn't miss that Jack was sitting awfully close to his sister. That was by design; Jane hadn't let Jack out of her sight since the docks. Which the leerie didn't seem to mind. The children were peppering Thomas, Jack and Officer Daugherty with questions about the nights' events, and, Michael noted, paying special care not to bring up _anything_ involving their aunt and the leerie-at least, not the two of them together.

"Were you scared, Jack?" Georgie asked him. In lieu of not having Jack's hat to wear, Georgie was currently sporting Thomas's, though it was a bit too big. He peered out from under the brim at his best friend, who was sitting on his right.

An image of a cold, dark river filled his memory, but Jack pushed it away, looking at Georgie's curious look. "Not for a second," he told Georgie. He looked around the table. "Knew I 'ad my friends comin' for me the whole time." He took a breath. "Thank you, everyone," he added, looking around the table at everyone in turn. "Dunno what I did to deserve such good friends."

"Well, you can tell a lot about a man by the company he keeps," Michael pointed out with a wink. "You've got some pretty good company here, so I'd say you're a pretty good man." There was a chorus of laughter around the table.

"Speaking of good men," Officer Daugherty spoke up from the end of the table. All eyes turned to him, and he looked down at Jack. "This whole thing started because of Jack's father. A good man, by all accounts," he added, looking at Andy and Michael, and Jack. "Jack, I noticed in the police report that there is no surname listed for you or your father."

Jack shook his head. "I don't remember it, really. Everyone we knew always called my father Miguel, or _El Toro_," he explained. To the children, he clarified, 'It means 'bull' in Spanish. That was 'is name in the ring, he was a boxer."

"Aye, and from what I hear, a damned g-_darned_ good one," Daugherty stammered, drawing a gasp from Annabel and a grin from John. "Anyway, I hope you don't mind, Jack, but I did some digging for you. I had Carmichael and some others on the force do a little looking." He smiled at Jack's confused look. "I believe we may have found your missing last name."

"Really?" Jane gasped, looking at Jack in surprise. Jack looked just as shocked.

Daugherty nodded. "Miguel came to London in 1905 with his son Joaquin. Immigration documents list the last name as Moreno."

"Jack Moreno," Jane tried it out. She smiled at Jack.

"_Joaquin_ Moreno," Jack corrected her gently. "Bert's the one to name me Jack-'e couldn't pronounce my given name." He stared down at his plate. "Seems fittin'," he said, after a moment. "Moreno, that is." He smiled shyly at Jane. "It means 'dark,'" he said. He smiled softly. "Makes sense, considerin'. Papi did most of his work at night and…so do I." He ran a hand through his hair. "Though it's more for skin or hair color, truthfully," he added with a grin.

"It still fits you," Thomas pointed out and Jack laughed.

"That it does." Jack leaned back. "Thank you, Officer." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "That'll take some gettin' used to," he mused. He grinned at Angus. "And I see you already thinkin' of jokes, not 'round the children, please."

Angus opened his mouth to protest and Thomas elbowed him in the side. The adults laughed as the children gave each other confused looks.

Jane took Jack's hand. "I have something to tell you as well," she said. She glanced around the table. "Though….not in front of everyone."

"Aw," John groaned, earning him a Look from his father.

Jane nodded to Michael. "If you'd excuse us," she said to her brother, grabbing Jack's hand and leading him into the living room and up the stairs. Once upstairs, she led Jack into the nursery and closed the door. Then, she threw her arms around him again, in tears.

"Jane?" Jack questioned after a minute or two, threading his arms around her and holding her close. "Jane, are you-"

"I love you, Jack," Jane whispered into his shirt. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I was so afraid that I wouldn't get to tell you that," she told him. "I love you. I've loved you since you ran into me on Cherry Tree Lane."

Jack grinned. "You love me, huh?" It made him feel warm inside, her saying it out loud. Then he frowned. "Jane, I….what I said the other night…"

"Jack, I would rather light lamps with you at night than get a ring from you," Jane jumped in. "I don't care about your hours, because I know you'd come back to be with me. I would move in with you and Thomas and Angus if it meant I got to see you everyday," and here she laughed at the scandalized look on his face. "I love riding on your bike, and as you so eloquently put it, you've got one good arm to hold me with."

Jack tried to get a word in, but she pressed a finger to his lips. "Let me finish. I don't need anything else in this world, not even a ring." She leaned into him. "I've got everything I need, right here, under this roof. Well, and a few things at my flat, but…" She looked up and smiled at him. "More importantly, I have everything I'd like to have right here in my arms right now." She enjoyed watching his ears turn pink. "You've got your last name now, Jack Moreno, and I'd gladly take it someday if you ever wanted, but right now, I'm perfectly happy with things just as they are-"

"Jane."

Her name made her pause, look up at Jack again. Jack was looking at her, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. Sun sparkled through the nursery window. "I can't believe you remembered all that," he choked out with a laugh. "I love you back, Jane Banks. And if this…if _I'm_…what you want, well…" He smiled. "Who am I to argue with _la luz en mi vida_?"

"I can see I'm going to have to pick up some Spanish," Jane said. She cocked her head and looked up at him. "What did you say?"

He grinned. "You remembered everythin' else I said that night, but you forgot the most important part." Jack pulled her close again, tangling his right hand in her hair and kissing the top of her head. "I said, who am I to argue...with the light in my life?"

* * *

**Author's Note**: And so ends Part 8 of the Chimpanzooniverse :) I tangled back and forth with Ed the Plot Bunny about whether or not to have a proposal in this chapter...ultimately, Ed decided to take things slow. Which I guess means I'll just have to write another story in this universe...darn, LOL. Thanks for reading, favoriting, following, everything. Thomas's Molotov cocktail idea comes courtesy of a chat with my friend Gwen :) Thanks, lady.


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